“By —­, that is so,” said Tall Tom, and Dolph and Rube echoed him amid a dozen voices, for not only old Joel, but many of his neighbors knew Jack’s method of fighting, which had made him a victor up and down the length of Kingdom Come.

There was little doubt that the boy was right—­that Jack had come on Whizzer killing the sheep, and had caught him at the edge of the ravine, where the two had fought, rolling down and settling the old feud between them in the darkness at the bottom.  And up there on the hill-side, the jury that pronounced Jack guilty pronounced him innocent, and, as the Turners started joyfully down the hill, the sun that was to have sunk on Jack stiff in death sank on Jack frisking before them—­home.

And yet another wonder was in store for Chad.  A strange horse with a strange saddle was hitched to the Turner fence; beside it was an old mare with a boy’s saddle, and as Chad came through the gate a familiar voice called him cheerily by name.  On the porch sat Major Buford.

CHAPTER 14.  THE MAJOR IN THE MOUNTAINS

The quivering heat of August was giving way and the golden peace of autumn was spreading through the land.  The breath of mountain woods by day was as cool as the breath of valleys at night.  In the mountains, boy and girl were leaving school for work in the fields, and from the Cumberland foothills to the Ohio, boy and girl were leaving happy holidays for school.  Along a rough, rocky road and down a shining river, now sunk to deep pools with trickling riffles between—­for a drouth was on the land—­rode a tall, gaunt man on an old brown mare that switched with her tail now and then at a long-legged, rough-haired colt stumbling awkwardly behind.  Where the road turned from the river and up the mountain, the man did a peculiar thing, for there, in that lonely wilderness, he stopped, dismounted, tied the reins to an overhanging branch and, leaving mare and colt behind, strode up the mountain, on and on, disappearing over the top.  Half an hour later, a sturdy youth hove in sight, trudging along the same road with his cap in his hand, a long rifle over one shoulder and a dog trotting at his heels.  Now and then the boy would look back and scold the dog and the dog would drop his muzzle with shame, until the boy stooped to pat him on the head, when he would leap frisking before him, until another affectionate scolding was due.  The old mare turned her head when she heard them coming, and nickered.  Without a moment’s hesitation the lad untied her, mounted and rode up the mountain.  For two days the man and the boy had been “riding and tying,” as this way of travel for two men and one horse is still known in the hills, and over the mountain, they were to come together for the night.  At the foot of the spur on the other side, boy and dog came upon the tall man sprawled at full length across a moss-covered bowlder.  The dog dropped behind, but the man’s quick eye caught him: